


After Heaven and Hell (Comes the Carousel)

by bree_black



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Purgatory, Supernatural Reverse Big Bang Challenge, Supernatural Reverse Big Bang Challenge 2011
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-08
Updated: 2012-07-08
Packaged: 2017-11-09 09:47:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/454111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bree_black/pseuds/bree_black
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not only did that idiot angel kill Meg, he also tore a hole in Purgatory, and since she doesn’t exactly have anything better to do at the moment, Meg decides to repair it. It’s a long trip across Purgatory, and when she arrives at the home stretch Meg is less than thrilled to find a goody-two-shoes angel on pretty much the same mission.</p>
<p>This layer of Purgatory is home to the souls of all the dead children who couldn’t get into Heaven, which says a little something about the kind of kids they are. To reach their final destination Meg and Anna must navigate an abandoned, booby-trapped amusement park designed to terrify them. Though a first they decide it’s every woman for herself, they soon realize they’ll need to work together to survive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After Heaven and Hell (Comes the Carousel)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2011 Supernatural Reverse Bang, inspired and accompanied by stunning art by Tringic here: http://tringic.livejournal.com/39234.html

Meg approaches the gate with a combination of hesitation and relief. She's been through about seven layers of Purgatory by now, and the buzzing she’s learned to recognize in the air is strongest here. She must be getting close.

The wrought iron gate stands tall and imposing against the strange purple sky. A grey fog swirls around most of it, so all Meg can see is the elaborate curlicues decorating the top of the gate. Whatever's through that gate isn't going to be pleasant, Meg knows, but she’s not particularly worried. Nothing can be worse than the swamp monster she faced in layer three. She's in the home stretch, by now.

Meg feels so pleased with herself she even starts humming a little. She stops abruptly, however, when she gets close enough to catch sight of another figure, a silhouette emerging from the fog, dwarfed by the tall iron gate. She's not alone.

It's another woman, wearing skinny jeans and high boots, plus a blazer. Her back is to Meg, and a wave of red hair hangs down over her shoulders. The girl looks like she belongs on a college campus somewhere, not in front of one of the gates of Purgatory. The sight of her makes Meg want to laugh.

That is, until she turns around.

"Fuck," she says, "what the fuck are you doing here?"

The girl looks startled to see her, doe-brown eyes wide and innocent. Meg isn't fooled.

"I'm sorry?" she says, taking a step forward through the fog. "You seem to have me at a disadvantage. You know who I am?"

"Anna," Meg answers. "Angel, right?"

"That I was," Anna answers, "before. And you're a demon. Have we met?"

"No," Meg says. "But we have mutual acquaintances, and I made it my business to keep tabs on their friends."

Anna narrows her eyes, then smiles. "Meg," she says, voice light. "The one after the Winchesters, right?"

"Righteo, sweetheart. Now if you don't mind, I've got work to do." She strides through the dark, brushing past Anna and absolutely _not_ noticing the way she smells like honey and strawberries and laundry left out in the sun to dry. Then she grabs the gate by two of its iron bars and pushes with all her strength.

It doesn't budge, of course.

"The gate's locked," Anna says sweetly.

"Thanks for that enlightening observation," Meg replies.

"It's latched," Anna continues, looking up. The lock is at least four feet above her head. "I've been here for ten minutes, trying to find a way through."

Meg doesn't make a habit of trusting angels. She looks around her for rope, or chain, or something to climb on, but the ground is bare and rocky, and the iron gate is smooth, with no crossbars to stand on, and no room to slip between the vertical bars, either.

"You won't find anything," Anna says.

"What are you even doing here?" Meg snaps. It's annoying enough facing a roadblock so close to the end of her mission already, let alone with a goody-two-shoes angel by her side making smart aleck comments.

"I could ask you the same question," Anna replies. "I'm looking for something."

"For the tear in Purgatory?" Meg asks.

Anna looks visibly startled. "Yes. So, I assume you're looking for the same thing? Why?"

"Because it's leaking souls, and I used to be plumber in a past life.”

Anna snorts. “You know about the Leviathans?”

Meg knows. Everyone knows. When the biggest bullies in the school yard suddenly go missing, people tend to notice. Most of the Leviathans left with the batch of souls that idiot angel swallowed, and the remaining stragglers were slowly following through the crack he’d left open. Seriously, who opens a door to purgatory and then forgets to close it properly? “I’ve heard rumours,” she says, still searching in vain for a way to open the stupid gate.

“Do you know how it happened?” Anna asks, “I mean, why it opened?” Her voice is the tiniest bit wistful. Meg knows the feeling. Many of the human souls were able to escape, but neither angels nor demons have any souls to travel with. Whether the door is open or closed, there’s no getting out for either of them. Not that Meg needs to have anything in common with Anna, of course.

“You don’t know?” she sneers. “Your little trenchcoat-wearing friend went power-crazy, swallowed a shit-ton of souls and called himself the new god. Teamed up with Crowley to do it, too, which means getting rid of me was high on the priority list. He’s why I’m here.”

He’s why she’s here for two reasons, actually. First, because he’d been the one to kill her and send her to Purgatory in the first place, and second because he’s the reason she decided to plug the leak. Call her vindictive, but Meg will be damned if she lets Castiel or Crowley get their greasy paws on any more ammunition. If she can’t rule Hell, she figures Purgatory is the next best thing.

Beside her, Little Miss Know-It-All has gone strangely quiet. When Meg glances over at her, she bites her lip. "He always was a little too ambitious," she says.

Her crestfallen expression makes Meg feel uncomfortable. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever. Point is, Purgatory's leaking, and somebody's gotta plug the hole."

"Right," Anna says, face determined. "If you stand on my shoulders you should be able to reach the latch."

Meg is shocked into silence for a moment. She hadn't meant to propose they work together or anything. She's never really believed in partnerships, and after her last couple of tries she doesn't plan on working _for_ anyone else anytime soon, either.

"I work alone," Megs says, finally.

"So do I," Anna agrees. Meg supposes her boss hadn't lived up to his half of the bargain, either. "We open the gate, and then it's each woman for herself."

So that's how it starts.

***

Twenty minutes later, they finally unlock the gate. Turns out it's not so easy to climb onto someone else's shoulders, especially if they keep whining about how much you're pulling their hair, or getting swamp mud on their jacket.

'I don't understand how your boots aren't covered in mud," Meg snarls. "You must've come through the swamp too."

"What swamp?"

"Uh, level three of Purgatory? Waiting room for all those who've died by drowning?"

"Oh," Anna says, as she crouches down again. "You didn't know about the shortcut?"

This time, Meg pulls Anna's hair on purpose, just a bit. She doesn't really blame Anna for dropping her like a hot coal once Meg has thrown the latch.

Meg considers slipping through the gate and slamming it behind her, but before she gets the chance Anna is already through. She’d probably anticipated that kind of trick. Meg hurries through herself before Anna can try to pull the same thing on her.

Beyond the gate, the world is still cloaked in a thick grey fog, making it difficult to see more than a few feet in front of them. Far away, in the direction she can feel the buzzing in the air pulling her, Meg can just make out a few twinkling lights.

“Do you think that’s the hole?” Anna asks, but Meg pointedly ignores her, marching determinedly forward into the fog, toward said twinkling lights.

Of course, she marches directly into a bush.

As it turns out, they’re surrounded on all sides but one by the same dark green bushes, full of thorns that Meg learns by experience are not to be messed with. The bushes are dense, and every time Meg breaks off one of the branches it seems to grow back immediately. Also, they’re full of red-eyed squirrels who glare at her and chatter threateningly every time she disturbs them.

Anna watches Meg’s futile attempts to fight through the bushes for a few moments, before setting off down the sole strip of clear path. Out of options and loathe to let an angel beat her anywhere, Meg rushes to follow.

“You don’t have to come with me,” Anna says when Meg catches up and matches her long strides.

“Right back at you,” Meg counters, and then they walk in silence through the fog, side by side but certainly not together.

_There once were two girls from away_ , a group of eerie children’s voices ring out from the darkness.  
 _Who decided to join us to play.  
Let’s have some fun,  
We’ve only begun,  
Maybe they’ll have to stay._

Meg’s not _scared,_ of course, but she’s not exactly pleased to know they have company. “Oh no,” she calls back into the darkness. “You can keep her, but I’m out of here as soon as the job’s done.”

Meg can practically feel Anna’s glare against the side of her face, but she carefully avoids eye contact. Before Anna can say anything, the chorus of children’s voices pipes up again.

_During our eternal rests,  
We have devised several tests.  
Pass all four  
We have in store  
And we'll release from your quest._

“What kind of little kids end up in Purgatory?” Meg asks. She only means to _think_ the question, but she’s been alone a long time and she’s started habitually talking to herself. “You’d think they’d get a free pass to Heaven.”

“Most of them do,” Anna says. “Except in extreme cases.” She shivers as she says it.

“Oh,” Meg says. She walks on, listening for voices. All she hears is the chattering of the red-eyes squirrels and Anna’s soft even breathing beside her. “Well this should be fun.”

The path turns several times, but they never have to make any choices, shepherded on by the thorny bushes. The enclosed space combined with the chattering of the squirrels make Meg feel jumpy, like she’s being watched.

***

They hear the carousel before they see it, organ music floating out to greet them before they round the last corner. It’s an old, stately ride that has clearly seen better days, its white paint and gold trim flaked and peeling in places. Anna gasps with pleasure when she sees it, causing Meg to roll her eyes, but when Anna steps into the circle of yellow light surrounding the ride Meg does even bother to try to contain her laughter.

“What?” Anna snaps.

“Nice outfit,” Meg manages between bouts of laughter. Anna looks down at herself.

She’s wearing a short pink denim dress held up with suspenders , with white stockings underneath. A picture of a grinning clown is emblazoned across her chest. Also, her hair is arranged in two perfect braids.

“I look like freaking Anne of Green Gables,” Anna mutters.

“I don’t know what that is,” Meg answers, “but it must be hilarious.”

Anna scowls and puts her hands on her hips; the pose only makes Meg laugh harder. Clearly exasperated, Anna sighs heavily and marches up to the ride, climbing atop a white stallion with a purple mane and golden eyes.

“Giddy up,” she calls out over the sound of the organ. Nothing happens.

“Oh would you look at that,” Anna says with a smirk. “Looks like they want you to play too.”

Meg steps into the circle of light full of trepidation. To her substantial relief, her outfit is kind of cool. She finds herself wearing bright purple jeans and a neon green t-shirt. It could definitely be worse.

“I like your hair,” Anna deadpans. “Subtle,” and Meg reaches up to her head in panic. A giant velvet bow sits atop her long hair, like gift wrapping on a present.

Meg decides not to dignify Anna’s comments with a response. She climbs onto her own carousel horse, one horse to the left and one ahead of Anna. The moment she settles her feet into the stirrups, the carousel lurches forward.

At first, it’s actually kind of fun. But just as Meg starts to let herself relax, a flickering image appears on the platform before her, an enormous cobra readying itself to strike.

“What the Hell,” Meg exclaims, and then closes her eyes as the snake bears down on her, hissing all the way. But instead of the pain of fangs sinking into her flesh, Meg feels only an intense chill, then nothing.

The snake is gone. She looks over her shoulder at Anna just in time to see an oversized, hairy-legged spider leap from the adjacent horse toward her. Anna screams once and leans as far back on the horse as she can before the image vanishes, midair.

“I think the children are trying to frighten us,” Meg says, struggling to steady her voice and calm her racing heart. had the original owner of her last vessel had a fear of spiders that had somehow transferred to her?

“Right,” Anna says. Megs can see her lock her jaw.

It really, really isn’t. The ride seems to go on forever, and as the carousel picks up speed the apparitions become more and more realistic and solid-looking. Meg sees a vampire, and a vicious dog, and a dark hallway full of shadows. She realizes she has her green t-shirt on inside out, and a group of school children appears in place of the nearby horses, laughing and pointing.

An old, balding man wearing a stained white t-shirt leans over her, his breath stinking of alcohol. As he reaches out to touch Meg’s leg, she hears Anna’s voice over the organ music and his slurred compliments. ‘Hey, get away from her!” she screams.

And the man vanishes. Even better, the carousel noticeably. Meg’s heart leaps in her chest. “That’s right,” she yells. ‘We’re not afraid of you!”

Another image appears next to Anna’s horse. “Ha!” she calls out. “I had a _pet_ rat when I was a kid. Is that the best you can do?” The carousel slows to a crawl, and Meg almost suggest to Anna that they climb off.

And then they see him. A man, four times the size of an ordinary person, wearing a white lab coat. he looms before them, grinning maniacally. But it’s not the man Meg is afraid of, it’s what’s in his hand. A giant, buzzing and spitting drill the size of Meg’s head.

“Open wide, girls,” the dentist says, and Meg is frozen with fear.

“Hey...Meg,” Anna says. Meg peeks through her peripheral vision and sees Anna leaning forward on her horse, arm outstretched. A part of Meg wants to roll her eyes, but the rest of her leans over and laces their fingers together gratefully. There’s something profoundly reassuring about the warmth of Anna’s hand in her own.

“Bring it on,” she mutters under her breath, to the dentist.

He vanishes, and the carousel finally comes to a full stop. They climb off their horses, and Meg accidentally steadies Anna when she stumbles dizzily, before hastily dropping her hand.

“Right, well, that gate is open now,” she says quickly, too loud. She strides off toward it, telling herself she really doesn’t care if Anna follows.

***

Their footsteps make crunching noises on the dried leaves as they continue along the path. The squirrels make ominous chirping noises from somewhere within the shrubs. Hearts still pounding, they finally approach a brightly lit stall, faded white front grown over with vines. "CONCESSION" is written in bright red cursive across the front.

"Yum," Meg says sarcastically, “I was feeling a bit peckish after that vomit-inducing bit of fun.”

"Do you think this is another test?" Anna asks, pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She rings the bell on the stand's wooden front counter. "Hello? Uh, kids?"

Meg shakes her head. No children respond, of course, but a tray made of orange plastic slides out from the left hand side of the stand. On the tray are four food items: a stick of cotton candy, a corn dog, a rapidly melting snow cone, and a candied apple on a wooden stick.

"How kind of our gracious hosts to provide us with refreshments," Meg says. "Do they actually think we're going to eat this crap?"

Meg moves to walk further along the path, but just as she steps forward, a root from a nearby tree grows out to block her way. "Hey," she says, irritated. She moves to step over it, and the root jerks up, catching her in the ankle and making her trip and fall forward, onto her knees. When she stands up again, brushing wet dirt off her jeans, Anna is smirking at her, and a wall of shrubbery has grown up to completely block her path.

"I guess they _do_ expect us to have a snack," Anna says. "Or, ironically, starve to death in this exact spot."

"Don't be dramatic," Meg says. "We don't need to eat." She steps forward to examine the tray of food. "You'd think if this was some kind of test we'd have to eat like...bull testicles or something." She’d seen that on a reality show, one time.

Anna wrinkles up her nose. Meg tries very hard not to find it endearing. "Well then I'm very glad they've given us the cotton candy," she says. She takes a huge bite of the fluffy pink cloud, decisively, as if trying to get it over with before she can change her mind. The pink sort of clashes with her hair, Meg notices.

They wait in silence. Anna chews, then swallows, and nothing happens. They both stare at the bush blocking what had formerly been their path. The bush stares right back.

"Abracadabra," Meg says.

"Alohamora," Anna tries, and then giggles to herself before taking another bite of cotton candy. "Maybe you need to eat something too."

Meg sighs heavily. 'This is a very embarrassing," she mutters. "Eating carnival food with an angel, of all things. The guys back in Hell would never let me live it down." She snatches up the candied apple and takes an angry bite.

"Yeah well seeing as we’re stuck here forever, I don't think your old Hell chums are ever gonna find out about this," Anna says. "Hey, hold on," she says thoughtfully. "Wait..."

But it's too late. By the time Anna's words sink in Meg has already swallowed the bite of sweet on the outside, tart on the inside candied apple. Moments later there is a ringing in her ears that sounds an awful lot like a witch’s cackle combined with maniacal children's laughter, and then the world starts to go all blurry. The last thing Meg sees before she loses her vision is Anna dropping her stick of cotton candy and rushing toward her. The last thing she feels is the hard ground rushing up to smack her in the face.

***

The next thing Meg feels after that is someone’s mouth on hers, which is a significantly more enjoyable sensation. Like any self-respecting demon, her first instinct when she feels someone kissing her is to kiss back, and _dirty_. Meg opens her mouth under the kiss, pushing her tongue forward into her partner's mouth, reaching up to wrap her arms around their neck, her fingers tangling in long, soft hair.

“Mmmhph,” whoever she's kissing says, pulling back, but Meg doesn't give up that easy, and hey, this feels kind of nice. The other person relaxes into the kiss for a moment, mouth opening under hers, and Meg catches a taste of pure sugar on their tongue. She pushes forward, hoping for more, sitting up on her elbows. Then someone slaps her across the face.

"Ow," Meg says, shaking her head to clear it. "Did you just fucking slap me?"

"Yes," Anna admits, already stumbling to her feet and taking two quick steps back, like Meg has cooties or something. "I figured that might snap you out of it. It always works in the movies."

Meg blinks angrily, and climbs to her own feet. "Well I don't know what your problem is. Why kiss someone if you don't want them to kiss you back?"

“ I didn't _want_ to kiss you," Anna insists, her body going rigid and shoulders stiff. "I had to, to wake you up. Because you ate the apple like a total idiot."

Meg splutters. "Wait, how does picking the apple make me an idiot? You know those corn dogs are made of mystery meat, right?"

Anna rolls her eyes. "You really never were human, were you? We're in a land of dead children. Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, remember? She was given a poisoned apple and could only be awakened by true love's first kiss?"

Meg blinks. "So you decided to kiss me?"

Anna shrugs. "Well it was worth a shot. I don't exactly carry smelling salts with me, princess. Anyway, the bushes cleared out." The path ahead of them, is in fact blissfully clear, and looks almost welcoming. Well, as welcoming as a dark, fog-filled pathway surrounded by evil bushes full of psychotic squirrels can look.

"Right. Let's get moving then,” Meg says, stepping forward into the path. She leaves the rest of her apple behind.

It isn't until they reach the next obstacle in their path that she realizes Anna didn't need to wake her up, that Anna could have taken the opportunity to finally leave her behind, each woman for herself.

***

The white wooden structure looks like it could collapse at any moment. It also has a picture of a sociopathic clown with glowing red eyes painted on the side.

"There is no way I'm walking into that thing," Anna says, moments after it emerges into full view.

"Not seeing as we have much of a choice," Meg says. The path ends at the house, and the bushes press tightly against either side. "It's just a house of mirrors. How bad can it be?"

"It could be awful. Do you have any idea how much lore there is around mirrors?" Anna says. She hesitates near the building's entrance.

"Yeah, well my people invented most of it so I'm not scared," Meg says. She marches past the door - its hinges are hanging off the doorframe - and into the house. Mostly, she admits only to herself, she's trying to redeem herself after that embarrassing candied apple incident.

Of course, she ears Anna's footsteps behind her.

"You don’t need to follow me, angel," she calls over her shoulder. "I think I can take it from here. Unless you're looking for another kiss." Meg smiles to herself because she knows that will make Anna blush, and also because she's starting to have the sneaking suspicion it might be true. When she turns back around, Meg nearly jumps clear out of her skin.

She hates herself for it a moment later, because of course the dark-haired, dark-eyed woman staring at her is just her own reflection, gazing back at her from twenty directions.

“Hi there,” one of her doubles drawls, winking suggestively. It is beyond strange to be flirted with by herself. “What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?”

Meg ignores herself, taking a few hesitant steps until she finds the real path forward among all the bogus mirror images. She puts her hands out in front of her to steady herself, and to make sure she doesn’t slam into any walls.

“Where are you going?” One of her duplicates sneers. “Scared?”

Actually, bored is closer to the truth. Meg had never realized, before, how false her tough girl bravado could seem.

“You running away to Lucifer?” another double asks. “To Azazel? Can’t you ever do anything on your own?”

Meg scowls. She turns to give herself the finger, but then smacks into a mirrored wall, stubbing her toe hard. She doesn’t know where Anna has gone.

“Poor baby,” one of her reflections croons. “Maybe you’re just not cut out for this. Maybe you should just go back to being a follower, someone’s faithful minion.”

Meg tries to block out her own voice, tries to focus on finding the correct path forward, but the way is dark and dizzying. She feels nauseous, and her eyes burn. Meg would rather throw up than cry.

“You really thought you could rule Hell, thought you could kill Crowley and use Castiel to do it?” He own reflection laughs cruelly, her face distorted and unnaturally thin. “Look how well that turned out.”

“You’re dead,” another Meg chimes in “Dead and powerless and trapped here forever. Even _less_ than human.”

Meg thinks she sees a light up ahead, the warm red glow that indicates an exit sign. She sprints toward it, ignoring the blurry dark-haired women she passes.

Anna stands in the clearing in front of the door, frozen in place, staring at a blank mirror, transfixed. Meg is about to say something to her, to try to snap her out of it, when her own reflection appears in front of them.

“And now,” she says to herself, “you’re working for an angel. You’re pathetic, you’re nothing, and you always will be.”

Meg swallows hard against the sob in her throat. She kicks forward, smashing the mirror in front of them into a thousand glittering splinters that tinkle as they hit the ground. Then she grabs Anna’s arm and drags her through the exit.

***

Anna rushes ahead once they leave the House of Mirrors, hurrying her long strides so that she's nearly around the next bend in the path before Meg catches up with her.

"What's going on?" Meg asks. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Anna says, the word bitten back like there's something else she wants to say. "It's fine."

Meg has known this girl for all of two hours, but she can tell that's a lie. "You know it was just a trick, right? It's not real. You don't have to listen to anything you...they, were saying." Meg makes her own voice so confident she almost believes it.

"Yeah, sure," Anna says. "Only maybe they had a point. My reflections kept telling me I trust the wrong people."

"Dean Winchester?" Meg asks, because hadn't he been mostly responsible for Anna's death, in the end, and maybe angels expected better from their one night stands or something.

"Sure," Anna says, "though I never expected anything different from him, in the end. I'm upset about Cas."

Meg stops in her tracks. It hadn't occurred to her that Anna would be upset by Cas' betrayal; after all, Meg is pretty accustomed to that kind of thing by now. And anyway, there hadn't been much worth getting attached to the little trench coated guy. All Meg had seen was a bit of a lapdog, obedient but actually pretty boring.

Of course, Meg had totally underestimated him. And, she remembers, Anna had once been Castiel's boss. So maybe he'd been _her_ lapdog.

"You know what they say about power corrupting,” she says, in a way she hopes sounds vaguely conciliatory.

"It's not that I'm mad at Cas," Anna says. "He can do what he wants with his life. It's just that I didn't see this coming. Even after he betrayed me twice over, led the Winchesters to kill me, I _still_ couldn't even imagine him doing what he's done now. Working with a demon, opening Purgatory, swallowing souls. I'm just not a very good judge of character, I guess."

Meg, the demon Anna is currently working with, shifts awkwardly from foot to foot. "Uh, listen, I think Cas fell in with some pretty bad influences. Like, I didn't see it coming either, and it bit me in the ass just the same as you. Don't beat yourself up about it."

Anna gives Meg a tentative half-smile. "You're pretty new to this whole girl talk thing, aren't you?" she says. "Not exactly a common passtime down under?"

Meg shakes her head. "Sorry. I just think you're selling yourself short, here. You've gotta be able to trust yourself. You made it this far, after all." Truth be told, there had been times Meg wasn't sure she was gonna make it, and she's more than a little impressed with the skinny redheaded angel.

"Thanks," Anna says. "Oddly, that almost makes me feel a little better."

They continue walking down the path in silence for a few more moments. "And," Meg says finally, "I just want you to know that if someone offered me unlimited power, I would totally take it. Just so you know what to expect from me."

Anna laughs. "Yeah, okay. I won't let you take me by surprise."

Meg is just starting to feel comfortable enough with this unofficial teamwork situation to check out Anna’s ass when they turn another corner and are confronted by the fucking _Tunnel of Love_. Meg mutters a few choice words under her breath that would be enough to kill a full grown man, on earth.

Anna just shakes her head.”Figures,” she says, but walks right up the ride’s entrance – gaping black passage into apparent nothingness, and the tiny wooden boat waiting for them there, just big enough to seat two.

Of course, the ride doesn’t move until Meg climbs in alongside her, their thighs pressed snugly together on the little metal bench along the bow of the boat. Then it lurches forward, sliding through the murky water and into the darkened tunnel beyond.

For the first five minutes, they sit in perfect, oppressive silence.

"Umm," Anna finally said. "So this is nice."

_Nice,_ wouldn't exactly be the first word Meg would use to describe the Tunnel of Love. Revolting, garish and positively mortifying all spring to mind first, not to mention totally 80’s. "Sure," she says, "if stuffed poodles stapled to the wall are your kind of thing."

Anna winces at the animals in question, who have a faded pink heart drawn around their stiff, open-mouthed bodies with lolling tongues. "It has...character," she decides, as a clump of shimmering cotton candy-coloured tinsel falls onto her head. The colour still clashes with her hair, but that's sort of starting to appeal to Meg. She reaches over to pluck a strand out of Anna's hair, where it's hanging over her face.

Somewhere in the bowels of the Tunnel of Desperation, Barry Manilow starts to sing. Meg withdraws her hand quickly, and Anna looks away. They both stare at the gargantuan pink teddy bear their boat is approaching. Meg does this half because she wants to look anywhere but at Anna, and also because with the way their day has been going, it could sprout fangs at any moment, or leap from its adorable basket and start throwing razor-sharp ice picks or something.

"Hey," Anna says, her sugary-sweet voice no longer grating on Meg's nerves. "You know I'm not really an angel anymore. And you're not really a demon. Down here we're all kind of the same. It's oddly...democratic."

Meg is still trying to formulate some kind of witty response when the lights go out. Anna reaches over and grabs at her hand, and Meg lets her hold it, because if they're going to die by the hand of a demonic teddy bear with pastel-coloured hearts on its chest, there's really no way this can get any more spectacularly pathetic as a death scene.

In the new pitch darkness, all Meg can here is Anna's ragged breath, the pounding of her own heart, and the sounds of Barry Manilow's deep, masculine crooning. Then Barry, too, fades away into the darkness, and Meg and Anna are well and truly alone.

"Well, that killed the mood," Meg quips. her voice comes out high-pitched and foreign.

"Oh, I don't know," Anna answers, voice quavering only slightly. "To be honest, the children's toys were making me feel a bit perverted."

Meg laughs despite herself, and then, because she's a demon damn it and if she's gonna die in a haunted amusement park she may as well do it corrupting an angel, she says "So I guess it's our last night on Earth. Well, in Purgatory."

"Really?" Anna says. "You're gonna try that line on me?"

"Hey, I heard it has a proven track record." Meg is about to make some kind of joke about Anna losing her halo, when Anna's mouth is against hers, and she suddenly doesn't feel much like talking.

Anna’s tongue is silky soft, and surprisingly determined. She pushes into Meg's mouth like she hasn't kissed anyone in ages, and Meg wonders if that's what it feels like to be an angel, all your senses dampened by pretentious purity.

There is an ominous creaking noises to Meg's left, and she and Anna both jump, skittish as the psychotic squirrels. “Whatwasthat?" Anna gasps, still breathless. He voice sounds too loud in the tunnel.

Meg drops her voice to a whisper, but she soon has to raise it to a yell in order to be heard over the cacophony of eardrum-splitting screeching that erupts around them. “I don’t know!” she answers. She resists the urge to cover her ears with her palms. The sound seems to be coming from everywhere at once, all chaos and irritation, like fingernails on a chalkboard meets the feeling of holy oil on her vessel's skin.

And then something brushes the top of her head, and Meg forgets all about the sound. She ducks, and beside her Anna impulsively does the same. Meg reaches up and touches sandpaper roughness above her, the tunnel’s rock ceiling moving closer inch by inch.

"The water is rising," she says. "It's pushing the boat up."

"The sides are closing in too," Anna says, voice ice cold and petrified. “We've got nowhere to go."

Over the screeching of the walls closing in, the rushing of the water filling the tunnel from somewhere far behind them, and the panicked rushing of blood through her own veins, Meg imagines she can hear teddy bear laughter.

"I guess this really is the end of the world," she says, and grabs Anna by the collar of her jacket. She drags her down to the wooden bottom of their little boat, pressing their bodies close together so they can fit side by side, with no space between them. Anna's knees bump against her own, and then she lifts one leg and weaves their bodies together, one thigh pressing against Meg's own.

It's not something she thinks about; it's not even something she's particularly proud of. Meg clings to Anna because, for the first time, she's aware of something close to mortality. If she dies in Purgatory, Meg has absolutely no idea where she'll end up. It should be a sombre thought, but somehow it's also exhilarating. Meg kisses Anna and thinks she might have some idea of what it feels like to be human, just for these last few perilous seconds.

They join together at the mouth, at the shoulders, at the hip and the groin. Anna laces the fingers of one hand through Meg's own, and uses the other to grab her ass, and if Meg wasn’t busy having some kind of deathbed epiphany she would probably laugh at how absolutely _not_ angelic that is. Instead she just goes with it, sliding one hand up under the bottom of Anna's thin t-shirt, to the smooth, fever-hot skin below.

The glacier-cold water rushes into the boat, and neither of them seem to notice.

The water rushes over the edge and begins to fill the bottom of the boat. The wood makes a splintering sound as it crunches against the solid rock ceiling, but curled together in the bottom of the boat, neither woman screams. As the water pours in far enough to cover the sides of their faces, still pressed together in a neverending kiss, they each take a last deep gasp of breath, but only pull apart for a brief moment. Wet hands tangle in wet hair, and mouth fill with water before the world goes blurry.

***

Suddenly Meg is blinking in under bright neon lights, and gasping for oxygen. Beside her, Anna does the same before sitting up from the bottom of the boat. If they forget to stop holding hands Meg can blame it on the near death experience and lack of oxygen affecting her brain.

The boat is washed up against a rickety wooden dock, its sides partially crushed. It’s half-full of water and sinking rapidly, so Meg rolls out and on to the dock, pulling Anna with her. They lie, panting, side by side and stare up at the sky.

It’s darker than it had been when they’d gone into the tunnel, the dark greys of the sky transformed into blacks and deep purples. The darkness is broken, however, by the vivid neon lights – blue, red and yellow – of an old-fashioned Ferris Wheel towering above them. Though it’s well lit and there is carnival-appropriate organ music blaring from its speakers, the wheel isn’t turning. Instead, it jerks back and forth like it’s stuck, jammed on something.

“Is that – “ Anna says, and then Meg squints at the horizon and notices.

There’s a flickering rust-orange light shining up on the horizon, against the dark blue night sky, like a jagged hole cut through the stars. Upon closer inspection Meg realizes this isn’t so far from the truth. The night sky beyond the Ferris Wheel is just an illusion, like the poorly painted canvas backdrop of a theatre set. The stars look painted on with white paint, and the sky itself is wrinkled and torn where the orange light shines through.

It’s the hole in Purgatory’s wall, and it’s being held open by one of the cars of the Ferris Wheel, caught in the fabric of space and time. With the Ferris Wheel in the way, they’ll never be able to heal the wound.

“You afraid of heights?” Anna asks, grinning just the slightest bit mischievously over her shoulder. Her hair is still wet and it clings to her face, but she’s oblivious to the potential annoyance, already starting off toward the bright lights.

There’s no ladder of course, no obvious, safe way up to the top of the wheel. Instead, Anna catches hold of of the the giant metal bars acting as spokes, climbing up on top of it and rising up on her toes to reach for the next one.

“Careful,” Meg warns, and is surprised that she means it. She’s never really felt fear before, for her own safety or anyone else’s.

“Yep,” Anna replies, pulling herself up onto the next spoke. Anna climbs onto the first. She supposes she could let Anna do this one alone - the tear in Purgatory has nothing to do with the psychotic kids, it isn’t part of the obstacle course - but they’ve come this far together, and it’s not like she has anything better to do.

It gets colder the higher they climb, the wind rushing into the tear above them freezing their damp clothes. Meg’s fingers go icy, so cold on the metal spokes they start to feel hot. Meg loses all feeling in her toes, which doesn’t help her grip on the rungs of their makeshift ladder.

As consolation, though, she does have a pretty great view of Anna’s ass, clad in wet jeans. So it’s not _all_ bad.

After what feels like an eternity, Anna pulls herself into the Ferris Wheel’s top car, the one jammed in Purgatory’s wall. A moment later her head appears over the edge, and she leans over to help pull Meg in. They sit side by side in the metal cage. Meg pulls the rusted safety bar down over them.

They both stare into the hole, into the bright orange light that could mean freedom if only either of them had a soul. It makes Meg feel bitter, and jealous, and vengeful.

“The universe is out of balance this way,” Anna says.

“Yes,” Meg says. “I am doing this for the noblest of reasons.” She kicks the wall of Purgatory, pushing the Ferris Wheel car back the few scant inches it needs to come loose from the wall. It takes barely any force at all.

The wheel starts turning then, slow and steady and surprisingly gentle. They both watch over their shoulders, and just as the tear is about to rotate out of view, Meg sees the wall seal itself, sees the orange replaced with smooth black and painted-on stars. Purgatory is closed, for them and for everyone else.

***

“So how long do you think this thing will keep spinning?” Anna asks, after their third lap around the wheel.

“I guess until we make it stop,” Meg replies. Truth be told she’s kind of enjoying the ride. From above the shrubs look more creatively manicured than they do menacing, and the purple glow washing over the entire place is eerie, yes, but also kind of beautiful. Also, the Ferris Wheel’s organ pretty much drowns out the children’s cackling, and she’s pretty sure the squirrels can’t get them up here.

“Oh,” Anna says. “I guess we’ll need to jump out when we’re near the bottom then.”

It’s the clear next step in the plan. The problem is, Meg has no idea where she’s supposed to go after that. It’s been kind of nice having this mission to focus on, having some direction in her “life.” But once she gets off this Ferris Wheel Meg will be all on her own again, without a path quite literally clearing itself in front of her. Meg’s not quite sure she’s ready for that kind of freedom, or the loneliness that she knows comes with it.

“Right,” Meg agrees, but her reluctance is obvious even to her own ears.

“Unless,” Anna says in her most hesitant voice, “you aren’t ready to move on just yet.”

Meg takes a deep breath. The air smells like fog and rust and cotton candy sweetness. Meg finds it oddly soothing. “It’s just,” she begins, “I heard about some trolls invading the virtuous nonbelievers’ layer of Purgatory. I thought I might go try and sort things out, and…I could use a partner.” This is a complete lie, of course.

Anna pretends to be deep in thought, but Meg can see her eyes twinkling even in the near darkness, and the tightness in her chest begins to edge away. “I _am_ very good with trolls,” she finally says.

“Must be the resemblance,” Meg says, without heat, but Anna barely seems to hear her, eyes already fixed on the ground as they make their slow approach.

“Are you ready?” she asks, holding out her hand.

Because she’s dead and she can do whatever the fuck she wants, Meg takes Anna’s damp hand in her own, linking their fingers together.

“Three, two, one,” Anna counts down, and then they jump together into the dark.


End file.
